


Summer in Winter

by pxrsephoneofeden



Series: Clegane-Stark family au [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death Fix, F/M, Family Fluff, Future Fic, Game of Thrones Fix-It, Gen, Married Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Minor Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Parents Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Post-Canon Fix-It, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 02:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20301865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pxrsephoneofeden/pseuds/pxrsephoneofeden
Summary: A game of thrones finale fix-itA look into the lives of the Stark-Clegane family 15 years after Sansa is named a queen in the north.





	Summer in Winter

The black ink on the parchment looked remarkably faded, unsurprisingly, but she couldn’t care less. Smiling warmly to herself she read aloud the letter from her beloved Jon to her youngest daughter, who practically idolized the man from her Mother’s stories.

The little girl’s deep red hair stood out beautifully against her simple mauve dress she wore inside whilst playing with her siblings, and her coppery brown eyes darted eagerly along the lines of the letter as her Mother read them with great happiness in her voice.

”...Tell the hound I send my regards, and remind my absolutely perfect nieces and nephews (including the one on the way) how much their Uncle Jon cares about them. Much gratitude to our Queen in the North from the Night’s Watch. Sincerely, Jon ‘Aegon Targaryen’ Snow.” Sansa stroked her protruding stomach as she held the other letter with one hand. Her littlest daughter, Poet, grinning ear to ear.

”Mummy, when will the baby get here?!” The easily excitable five-year-old asked for the millionth time that week.

”Soon my love, within a month or two you’ll get to be a big sister to little boy or girl! Are you joyous?” She asked her perky little girl, who’d been longing to have another baby around ever since her Aunt Arya and Uncle Gendry brought their baby boy, Eddard, to Winterfell to meet the rest of his family.

The dawn that Arya and Gendry headed south to return to Braavos began a very aggravating but somehow adorable inquisition from Poet every five minutes of when she was going to have a baby brother of her own. As if the seven gods had listened to the child’s wishes directly, within three months of asking, Sansa fell pregnant with her fifth child, to the shock of herself, her husband Sandor, and well, frankly the entirety of Winterfell, as the pair had quite publicly decided Poet would be their last.

Arya found the matter quite hilarious and Jon was as happy as ever to hear he’d be getting another honorary niece or nephew once he received the letter up at Castle Black.

Poet hopes down from her mother’s not so roomy lap and scurried from the room to tell her siblings another letter from ‘Uncle Jon’ had arrived. She was halted when she ran headfirst into the arms of one of her Mother’s advisors, and the head of the Winterfell’s Knights Ser Brienne.

”Where do you think you’re running off too, My lady?” Brienne picked the girl up and held her on her hip. Poet giggled and pointed to her eldest sister’s room, just a few feet down the hall.

”Morganna is studying the maps of the free cities right now, little lady, you might consider returning at a different time.” Brienne turned her away from the oldest Clegane child’s room and whisked her off to wherever her brothers were playing so she could join them.

Morganna was the spitting image of Catelyn, except with shiny brown hair and enchanting dark eyes. At thirteen, she spent most of her time studying everything she could about the world by her own free will, and was determined to one day take her mother’s place as the Queen in the north. Shy, and blunt with her speaking, the people of Winterfell often referred to her as Sansa’s mini-me in the making, as she was often clashing with her rough and tumble brothers, or her adventurous and loud younger sister.

Brienne lifted Poet upon her shoulders as she carried her down the stairs of the castle, and out of the doors into the outside. It had been unusually warm in the north for quite some time now, not that anyone truly minded after the freezing winter they’d just escaped from. Poet squealed with excitement when she spotted her two older brothers, Ellory and Adriel pretending to sword fight with wooden sticks in the field by the castle. 

Brienne smiled at the two boys, who always seemed to have more and more questions about being a knight every single day. At first, she worriedly explains to Sansa she felt guilty, that maybe she’d made them think that being a knight was glamorous, and fun, rather than dangerous and dutiful, but Sansa reassured her that every little boy wants to be a knight at some point in their lives, and recalled Theon and Robb smacking each other with sticks and bowing to each other the same way her own boys did.

Ellory, the youngest boy at age nine, swung his stick strategically over Adriel’s head, Adriel ducked and poked Ellory in the stomach, who gasped melodramatically as if he’d actually been stabbed. 

The elder boy of eleven, smugly grinned at his brother and playfully hit the back of his head.

”Hey! That hurt!” Ellory, with his freckle stained face twisted in annoyance, kicked at his brother’s ankles.

”Hey now! Don’t get angry, just do better next time! Be quicker-“ A large hand on his shoulder made Adriel jump.

”And were you a great swordsman at nine, if I remember correctly up until last spring your sister could still beat you in a duel!” His father reminded him to be easier on his brother, who hadn’t yet had his ‘Clegane growth spurt’ the men in the Clegane family got around age ten or eleven that shot them up a whole foot in height almost in a fortnight’s worth of time.

”Father!” Poet exclaimed as she jumped down from Brienne’s arms, Brienne chuckled and rolled her eyes as the three swarmed around their father as if he’d been gone for eternity rather than a few days. She returned to her post, smiling at the thought of Poet’s elated face watching her brothers haphazardly duel each other.

Sandor bent down to meet his daughter’s embrace and his eldest son smiled warmly at him. Ellory ran up to him, asking him if he’d killed anyone today, earning laughs from Adriel. He smiled and shook his head ‘no’, and ruffled Ellory’s scorching red hair, inherited from his Mother.

The four-headed back inside the castle, greeted by the oldest Clegane child, who was looking less and less like a child every day in the eyes of her parents. She hugged her father as soon as he made it through the door.

”How was your trip to the vale? I heard from mother that Bran is ordering their knights to send troops to King’s Landing, are we having problems?” The serious young woman tucked her long wavy hair behind her ears.

”No, everything is fine. The knights of the Vale are needed in King’s landing because troops from the King’s guard are joining Bran on a diplomatic mission to the Dorne.” Sandor had never been one to want to be involved in affairs like this, but since his wife was too pregnant to travel, he had to advise Robin Arryn on the best choices to make regarding the matter instead of her, the whole time though, he was internally judging the man on still having the decision making and kingdom ruling skills of a child.

”That's wonderful! Mother is upstairs reading letters we got yesterday, apparently, Aunt Arya is coming to visit again soon!” Morganna smiled at her father.

”That's wonderful, dear.” Sandor said as he began to walk up the stairs of the castle to the chambers he shared with his wife.

Sansa, heavily pregnant, was sitting at a desk in the room, so wrapped up in writing and sending letters for ravens, she didn’t even hear her husband enter the room.

He couldn’t help but grin at her, just as beautiful as ever, little bird, he thought as he stepped as quietly as he could up behind her. Sansa, still scribbling down words, didn’t even think to turn around and see who had entered the room.

”Poet dear, Mummy needs to finish her work, there’s a trial tomorrow, find your brothers and play outside till father returns.” Her voice was firm but tired. He knew without him there to make sure she took care of herself she’d work herself half to death over keeping her people happy.

”I thought I told you none of this ‘Queen’ business until the baby is born!” He said, waking up to her chair and wrapping his arms around her, she chuckled upon realizing it was, in fact, her husband and not her daughter in her room. 

“I missed you. More than you know. We all did. I think Adriel has stared out of his window every morning since you left three days ago.” She pulled away from his arms to turn around and peck his cheek. Her icy eyes met his and he grabbed her chin to make their mouths meet. They separated when an unexpected guest busted in the room, holding Poet upside down by her feet and carrying Ellory on her back.

”Sister! I’ve arrive early I-“ Arya began giggling realizing she interrupted Sansa and Sandor having a romantic reuniting.

The hound sighed and Sansa looked down in embarrassment. Arya and Gendry weren’t meant to arrive for another two weeks.

”I thought you were coming for the birth of the baby, not now!” Sansa said, patronizingly at her youngest sister.

”Oh don’t worry we aren’t staying in the castle. We’re here for the baby, but I wanted some time with the others before the newest one enthralls us all!” She exclaimed.

Adriel and Morganna trailed behind Arya and their siblings. Morganna rubbed her temple and Adriel chuckled.

”I tried to stop them, but Aunt Arya can run faster than I can.” Adriel said, a little ashamed. Morganna held baby Eddard on her hip, awkwardly and a little anxious, unlike how her mother held babies instinctively. Arya took note of this and knew that it reminded her of herself and her attitude to babies at that age too.

“Come to mother, Eddard!” She took her son from Morganna’s arms, and the Clegane children walked around her to join their parents.

”Where’s uncle Gendry?”

”Oh! Sadly he’s not joining us for this trip, he’s got the pox and didn’t want anybody getting sick, especially with the new baby around.” Arya bounced the chunky, giggling boy on her hip. Sansa never thought she’d see the day Arya became an excellent mother, but here they both were, 33 and 35, married and having bore kids of their own.

”Thats too bad. But hey! Maybe you’ll still be able to tell me about Braavos right?” Adriel said in excitement, his striking blue eyes shining in the dim lighting of the chambers.

”Oh course!”

~

_two weeks later _

It turned out to be a good thing Arya arrived early, because within two weeks of her arrival with her son, Sansa went into labor on a particularly muggy Sunday evening. Ellory and Adriel were abnormally quiet with anticipation, Poet was bouncing off the walls in happiness, and Morganna was chewing her nails in pure nervousness, as she was the only sibling to understand the severity of delivering a child prematurely.

Sandor paces outside the chamber door, hearing his wife’s uncomfortable groans, and wishing he could burst in the door and rescue her from the pain she was feeling. The maester and midwives probably wouldn’t appreciate that though, as they needed a stress free environment to deliver the early arriving infant as safe as possible.

”Father!” His trance was broken as he heard the cry of his current littlest child. He rushed down the stairs and into Poet’s room. The girl sit upright on her bed, her coils of hair braided by her mother just hours earlier. She looked solemn and scared, he was expecting her to ask him to stay, protect her from whatever monster her nightmare had created in her head, but all he heard was her sniffle and mutter an apology.

”What’s wrong, my little red bird?” He’d said to her comfortingly.

”I said I'm sorry...” Her soft voice was shaky.

”Whatever are you sorry about? Did you do something nasty to your sister again?” The last time she’d been eaten away by guilt like this, it was because she’d let a mouse loose in Morganna’s room as a prank. However, she shook her head no.

”Brothers?”

She shook her head again.

”The what is it?” He asked as he patted her head

”I asked the Gods to bring my baby brother or sister now, because I was tired of waiting, but now Morganna says the baby might die because they’re not big enough yet!” She cried and looked down at her lap in shame. The hound felt his heart strings get yanked at.

”Oh, my sweet little bird, it’s not your fault! And the baby will be ok! I promise.” He hugged his daughter, and he felt a little voice in his head reminded him that no one would ever believe that “The hound” could ever be so gentle and caring. 

Poet pulled away and reached out her pinky finger.

”You promise it’s not my fault?” She asked. He reached out his own pinky finger and joined their hands.

”I promise, now go to sleep, you’re going to have a new sibling in the morning!” Poet smiled and wiped her tears from her face. After she laid back down and he made sure she fell asleep, he quietly exited the room, only to be surprised by a tearful Morganna, who was almost jumping with delight.

”She’s here! She’s here! She’s beautiful already!” The girl said dreamily. Arya races up behind her, a mile wide smile on her face.

”Guessing you’re glad I got here early now aren’t you?” She said.

”Oh shut it.” He said and he practically ran up the stairs.

He opened the door and was immediately shushed by a bony woman he assumed was a midwife. The sun was beginning to rise, shining a warm orange light into the room. Sansa lay in the bed cradling a newborn in a dusty pink swaddling cloth, Adriel and Ellory looking at the child in pure adoration.

He took cautious footsteps over to them, and as he did his wife’s tired gaze met his and he gave her a prideful look in response.

”Is she asleep?” He inquired before he made his final steps to the bed. Ellory nodded yes and Adriel placed a finger to his lips.

Sansa looked at the boys and motioned her head for them to leave.

Sandor bent over to peer at the baby, she was the smallest they’d ever had, understandably. Her was born with a head of fuzzy ginger hair, and skin as pale as the snow beyond the wall. She was sleeping peacefully on her mother’s chest.

”Well hello little one. I’m your father, and you are?” He stuck his hand out as if the baby were supposed to shake it, Sansa sighed and fought back a smile, as she’d heard that same joke every single time she’d given birth.

He out his hand down and looked at Sansa.

”Well, Sandor, what do you suppose we name her?” She whispered, wearily.

”Hell if I know, you always think of better names than I do.” He said, Sansa rolled her eyes, and tucked a bit of the blanket away from her daughter’s nose.

”I have truly no clue. I was so set on a little boy, I didn’t even think of a girl’s name.” She looked at him, and leaned over to rest her head on his arm.

He looked at her and then back at the baby.

”I think I might have a name.”

~

_One month later_

Sandor was reminded once more as to why his family never travels south as his sons sat unmannerly in the pews of the sept. Ellory was picking at the bottoms of his shirt and Adriel kept running a hand through his hair, hating the feeling of the product his mother made his out in it to tame the chestnut curls. Poet looked unnatural in such a girly white dress, her hair adorned with ribbons and her feet actually covered by shoes. Morganna seemed to be the only one besides her mother in her element in the Sept.

Morganna’s hair had been straightened with an iron the night before, and she was wearing a gorgeous lavender and silver dress her mother had sewn for her herself. The recently turned fourteen year old was getting quite a few enamored stares from the boys in King’s landing, only to have them stopped by her father’s glares. She chuckled, when a particularly rude boy attempted to sit a little too close to her in the pews, was scared out of his wits upon hearing her last name.

Arya and Gendry say with their son and the Clegane children in the front pews of the sept, and Arya made sure to give hate-filled looks to whoever made any Northern jokes when Sandor wasn’t present.

All conversation stopped once the king, Bran, was escorted by his kingsguard into the Sept, followed by the high septon.

The high Sept of Baelor had been rebuilt just a few years after Bran took the throne, he made sure the newest high septon was truly a pious man, and not a crook or a loon as many of the past ones had proven to be.Bran had made sure all of Sansa’s children were Christened in the King’s landing Sept so that he could be there to watch. He insisted he paid for everything involving the trips down and brought expensive gifts for the children, as he was unmarried and tried his hardest to treat his Nieces and Nephews as his own.

The clegane kid’s referred to him as the ‘King Uncle that buys us lots’ when their parents weren’t around. Bran new, he didn’t mind one bit.

The choir stopped singing as the high septon began speaking. 

“We are gathered here of this divine day to watch the newest child of the Warden and Lady of the North-“ Arya scoffed a bit louder than she intended, annoyed her sister want getting recognized as the true ruler of the northern house’s.

”-be dedicated in the High Sept of Baelor to the seven, the Father, the Mother, the Maiden, the Crone, the Warrior, the Smith, and the Stranger. The child is present by their Mother, Sansa Celgane, formerly Stark, and their Father Sandor Clegane-“ 

As the septon continued his predictable speech, Sandor anxiously held onto the shoulder of his wife, who gazed lovingly at their daughter. He wasn’t a religious man, and Sansa admittedly said their children’s dedications were more of a symbolic thing meant for keeping appearances up in the south to avoid conflict, but even still he was nervous.

It’s been a long time since he was “the Hound” feared and ruthless, working blindly for the corrupt and vile Cersei and Joffrey Lannister alongside his brutish brother, but he still felt that’s all people saw him as, especially down south.

Sansa rocked their calm infant in her arms and stood on her toes to place a kiss to her husband’s cheek before they walked into the pews, she gave him a sympathetic smile, and moved one hand down to enclasp it with his. He felt loved and understood in that moment, and that’s all that really mattered.

The two walked down the aisle of the Sept. Sansa carrying their baby in one arm. The infant was embellished with a dainty white dress and a silky bow turned around her head rather than her fluffy red hair. Sansa was wearing a plain cream colored dress with teal embroidery on it, her hair braided up into an intricate ‘Southern’ style half updo. Sandor, along with the rest of the attendance, looked in awe of his wife and daughter once they reached the Podium. Sansa hesitantly handed her child over to the high sept, who began awkwardly bouncing the small infant.

”And what is the gods given name chosen for this baby girl?” 

Sandor looked into the eyes of the septon and said, proudly,

”Catelyn Clegan, your holiness.”

  
  
  



End file.
